An unconventional foreplay
by DC13
Summary: Gregory/Ze Mole. Seducing a Mercenary is hard.


Title: "Lets go to a bar

**Title:** "Lets go to a bar..."  
**Rating:** M to be safe, for butt-sexings.  
**Pairing:** Gregory/Ze Mole, because damnit I don't see enough of this pairing.  
**Summary:** Those boys aint right.

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"Lets go to a bar." Gregory murmured as his arms slid up the other males' chest and around his shoulders. The blondes' lips parted expectantly and he was rewarded when a cigarette was held against them. Breathing in and out with practised ease he tilted his head to send the smoke away from the Moles face.

"You 'ave asked me zat every night for ze past three nights." He murmured, watching the way the other was looking at him intently, Gregory almost grinning. Gregory had picked the others favourite colours to dress in - a black shirt and dark grey trousers, an effort to try and sway the Frenchman to his cause. It was a small thing, but it was working to a slight degree. "I do not understand why you want me to go with you."

"I want to watch you get into a bar fight." The Mole arched an eyebrow at the response and a faint smirk tugged his lips. He held his smoke to the others mouth again at the next unspoken request, watching the red flare at the end briefly.

"You want to watch me fight for you?" He sounded amused, almost patronising. "Beetch, you 'ave far too large an opinion of yourself..."

"Not for me." Gregory interrupted, pressing his body a little more persuasively against the Moles broader one. The blonde almost smirked when he felt the others hands fall onto his hips by habit - almost, because if he had it would be taken as a challenge and he'd be refused this little indulgence. "I just want to watch you fight."

Mole said nothing, having felt the holster on Gregorys' belt and being far too busy smirking. He gave a short nod though, and didn't respond when Gregory laughed and leant up, lips brushing the corner of the Moles mouth.

--

That was how they ended up here, at the Kings Head - even the Monarchs title seemed to have incensed Mole a little before even entering the dimly lit bar with fake ID. Gregory led them to a table at the back and ordered drinks for them, and they sat smoking together in silence for a long time. When they reached their last cigarette Gregory reached over, pale hand taking the Moles dirtier one and squeezing faintly.

"Christophe," He murmured as the brunette watched him, awaiting some sort of signal. "Why don't you ask those nice gentlemen over there if they have two smokes for us?" The men Gregory had gestured at were tall and well built, either members of a fraternity or club judging by the attempts to be the loudest members of the bar there. Silently, the Mole got up and went over to the group, talking quietly with them for a moment. Clearly, his request for a cigarette was denied and so the best solution was for the Mole to smash his fist into the mans jaw.

Gregory watched the ensuing brawl and smirked to himself, as he remained detached from it. A cigarette – he'd lied - had been unearthed from his pocket and he relished it as he watched intently. Other groups were joining in now, either against or with the Mole was uncertain - they all seemed to be getting battered and bruised though. Somewhere in the mass there was the smashing of glass and the cries grew louder, more bloodthirsty.

The blonde shivered and his hand disappeared under the table, pressing against the growing pressure between his legs. There was a scream from the pile and he shuddered slightly, taking a harder then required drag from the smoke, the zip sliding down as his hand slipped inside.

A series of French curses, each more colourful from the last sounded as well as the sound of fists hitting something - something wooden splintered and a chair leg was brandished. A wet thud followed and Gregory groaned, hand moving slowly over his cock. This wasn't the main attraction he reminded himself, half listening for sirens. He needed to conserve himself for later.

It ended too soon, in his opinion. He heard the police cars wailing down the road. Scowling to himself he zipped himself back up before standing. A shot rang out and the group froze, the Mole digging his way out with kicks and curses. Standing he dusted himself up, quirking an eyebrow at the blonde holding a pistol aloft, pointing at the ceiling.

"The police are coming." He said calmly, the gun leveling at someone who was trying to sneak behind the Mole. "We need to go, now." A grunt of assent and the Mole moved to a window, breaking it with a quick jab of his elbow. Gregory was careful to keep the gun aiming at the group who were starting to pick themselves up, just in case they tried anything. A hoist up onto the windowsill, and they were gone.

--

Gregory hissed as something cut his hand. It wasn't the main thing on his mind though as Christophe - it was Christophe during sex, Gregory had argued for that right and won - angled his hips and pushed in harder. They hadn't made it home, despite any efforts to do so. Instead they were in an alley not too far from the bar they had ruined. Still, Gregory's hand closed around the glass that had cut him and pulled it from the wound on Christophe's back.

All he got for his efforts to help was a savage bite on his neck and a hissed French obscenity, the blonde crying out as he felt the teeth break skin. He kicked the back of the others legs in retaliation and was rewarded with a strained chuckle, the grip on his hips tightening and tilting him back a little, his shoulder blades scraping the bricks behind him.

Gregory tilted his head and bit at Christophe's shoulder in response, to stifle a scream as the others movements grew violent, nails digging into Gregory's hips to draw blood. A few harder thrusts and the blonde cried out loudly as he came, body being pushed back into the wall as Christophe sought his own release. Another few tense minutes and the Frenchman had pulled out, pumping himself to release over the others stomach.

For a moment they panted and fought to relax, Gregory still held in an awkward position. The Moles head canted forward and rested on Gregory's shoulder as he was let down to stand, wincing and shuddering slightly. Arms wound around the brunettes waist and he tensed before smirking as a cigarette was pulled from his back pocket.

"Thought we were out." Gregory sounded amused, the click of a lighter sounding followed by a sigh as he exhaled. The Mole shrugged and leant forward, stealing a drag for his own.

"I lied." A shrug and the blonde laughed faintly, sinking down to half-sit, half-sprawl on the floor, back against the wall. Mole sunk down to sit with him, and for a while there was peace as they shared second-hand smoke.

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Goddamn, it's been a while since I've submitted anything, and when I do it's to an entirely new Fandom to me. Go figure. Whelp, review if you feel the love!


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